100 Theme Challenge
by Emo-Ki
Summary: A 100 Theme Challenge which I have made centered around the characters of South Park.
1. Remember

"Oh God no!" Kyle backs up a few paces at the sight of his zombie friend crawling towards him. The normally bright orange of the parka is muted by crimson, the black pants torn on one leg; the leg that is missing below the knee. Blood drips from Kenny's head and from the gaping hole where his leg used to be. Kenny is coming at him with a purpose and Kyle can only guess that its revenge for killing his best friend. Because Kyle did kill Kenny, didn't he? This time it was Kyle and not some bastard, and Kenny knows it.

He wants to run, run to find Stan, but he doesn't. The dead boy's mouth moves but only blood comes out of it. "Go away, Kenny!" In the dead blue eyes Kyle swears he sees a flicker of hurt, but it may just be light reflecting off the eyeballs. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to kill you." A lie, and they both know it; Kyle did mean to kill Kenny but if it wasn't for survival Kyle would have never done it. "Dude, I'm so fucking sorry." Where is everyone when he needs them? Kenny is back, more or less, and who knows what his intentions are?

Aside from getting to the Jewish boy, that is. Kenny comes to a stop in front of Kyle. He lays bleeding to death, again, at the other's feet in the snow. If Kenny had breath left in him, Kyle would swear that he just sighed before trying to prop himself up on his knees. Instinctively Kyle reaches down to help him. Kenny's hand clamps down on his wrist as the blond boy kneels before him. No words are exchanged between them, not that Kenny could talk before. In his kneeling position Kenny uses his other hand to bend Kyle towards him.

Their lips are less than an inch apart when suddenly Kenny becomes a dead weight. It nearly tips Kyle off balance, but he regains it quickly. Looking down in horror, Kyle sees that Kenny is dead, dead for real this time. He wants to mourn his lost friend, but for some reason no real emotions come to him. It's like he's been through this a hundred times before. As Kyle lays Kenny down on his back in the snow, arranging him in the way he would look if he were in a coffin about to be buried, something falls from the Jew's shirt collar.

A piece of light blue paper, something no self-respecting male would have on him, lays in the red dyed snow. Kyle picks it up, wondering how it could have gotten into his shirt, and opens it. The handwriting is clearly Kenny's. It has only one sentence on it that Kyle can't decipher any real meaning from. He knows that whatever it is it's important to Kenny. In spite of this, Kyle drops it in the snow beside the frozen body of his best friend. It lands face up:

_Try to remember this time._


	2. Bruises

Ike runs into a doorframe and pain shoots up his forearm. He sighs to himself, letting out a little insane half laugh, and continues on his way down the hall. Quiet voices from his older brother, Kyle's, room reach his young ears but he ignores it just like he does every time Stan spends the night. How anyone can't see that Kyle and Stan are a couple, Ike doesn't understand. Maybe it takes young eyes and a quick mind to realize that the frequent locked-door sleepovers aren't actually for sleeping. Purposefully Ike lets his hip hit the doorknob. "Sounds like Ike's up." Stan teases. His voice is low and somewhat hoarse; probably from trying to muffle the sounds of their passionate night.

Ike doesn't hang around to listen to the reply, instead coming to the stairs and contemplating whether or not to accidentally fall down them. In the end Ike decides against it in favor of saving that for later, when their parents aren't home to ask questions about just how their youngest son can be such a klutz as to trip down the stairs two times in one month. Besides, he doesn't want to worry them more than they normally worry. Last time he tripped down the stairs they checked him into the hospital, where all his other bruises got exposed.

They are still trying to get answers out of him, they think someone is beating him up, but Ike refuses to talk about it. What they don't know and what Ike won't tell anyone is that the bruises are self-made. Some people cut themselves, Ike bruises himself. Its sort of like cutting himself beneath the skin, but he doesn't call himself a cutter. He doesn't call himself anything. Ike doesn't know when he started intentionally giving himself bruises or even why he does it. There isn't any sick sort of joy or feeling of revenge he gets when he runs into things or falls down.

The young teenager walks to school with his head down, black hair hanging in his face. He wants to look at his newest bruises, but resists the temptation to take a peek until he's somewhere more private than the street. He meets no one on the streets or in the building itself. Solitarily, he goes to his secret hideout within the school, a small fenced off grassy area outside the building he thinks used to be the teacher's designated smoking spot. There is only one way in and out unless you're a monkey and can climb the brick wall, the door to inside the building.

Once alone Ike sits down to examine his bruises. He rolls up his red sleeve to reveal the one on his forearm; it is light purple in color, and slowing growing darker in the middle. It's a long bruise, taking up a good portion of the top half of his forearm. Experimentally Ike pokes it with his index finger. The spot turns white as a sharp pain is felt and then it returns to normal. Satisfied with that, Ike lifts up his shirt to reveal his hip. This one is a sickly yellow-green and Ike hides it immediately. He much prefers the black, purple, and blue bruises.

For a while Ike sits there on the grass in his secret spot, rolling up sleeves, adjusting material, and twisting to see bruises all over his body. It's a good thing he doesn't have a significant other, or else he doesn't really know how he would explain these away. Instead, those who by chance happen to see the bruises, just think he's a klutz. Ike Broflovski is no klutz, but what others know won't hurt them.


	3. Invisible

Hands slide up Pip's shirt and down his pants. The young British teenager opens his mouth in a silent moan as pleasure rockets from neck to thighs and back again. His blue eyes are open wide but no information except for an impenetrable darkness is taken in. The pure dark used to hurt his eyes, but now Pip welcomes it and what it represents. For the past few years every time Damien visits him in his bedroom, everything goes black.

The only light comes from his own skin, Pip himself is the only thing the blue eyes can see. It took a while before Pip realized who it was visiting him nightly and that Damien is the darkness around him. A hard concept to wrap ones mind around, an even harder one to explain. Yes, Damien feels as real as the flesh on his bones. But what is seen when he runs his hands all over the pale white body are silhouettes of a human; nothing more and nothing less. Essentially Damien is invisible.

Pip moans and although no sound comes out, he hears the sound he made. Just as clearly he hears his name being murmured by his demon lover. Damien makes it so that no sounds are made and yet they are heard, nothing is seen aside from the black silhouette against white skin. A mouth attaches itself to his neck, as real as Pip's heart beating wildly in his chest, and sucks gently. For the son of Satan, born in the seventh layer of Hell, Damien can be surprisingly gentle.

"I want to see you." It's a desire that Pip has been feeling for so long. He has only the memory of what Damien looks like from when they were kids and judging from what he's feeling, the Brit is missing a lot of eye candy. Damien provides no answer to this request and Pip doesn't expect one. It's a fact that Pip will have to live with for the rest of his life; his boyfriend is invisible. And maybe being invisible is the only way Damien can be with Pip, so he doesn't complain about it unless the desire threatens to swallow him whole.


	4. Cost

Butters lays beneath Bebe wearing something that he knows would get his ass kicked if any of the guys ever saw. It is a blue outfit; a piece of cloth around his chest, a short skirt that didn't even cover his butt, panties, and thigh high socks. The blue matches his eyes, which he supposes makes it just a little bit more tolerable. Truth be told, though, Butters doesn't understand Bebe's recent obsession with him. A normal self-respecting teenage boy wouldn't let himself get caught up in her so much that this is the result? The thing is, Butters isn't even sure if this is the end result.

She runs her manicured nails though his hair, planting tender kisses on his eyelids and rubbing her large breasts against his flat chest. It should be too much for a teenage guy to handle, but Butters is a gentleman; but one look at his secret porn stash would tell you otherwise. Bebe hasn't really talked to him much aside from convincing him to come over and let her have her way with him.

So far her way has been to make him look like a wet bitch, ready to be taken by the first person who comes by. Butters doesn't mind either way, he could sense that she is hurting and needs something to distract her. If Butters said that her bodacious breasts aren't getting to him, he would by lying. Slowly he takes a breath against her shoulder. "You won't leave me will you?" she whispers to him in the voice of a possessive wildcat. Inside Butters freezes with a newfound horror. Uh-oh.

She seems to sense his discomfort because she shifts her smooth flat stomach between his open legs. "I-I won't l-leave you B-Bebe." She practically purrs against him and he knows that he's made her happy. But at what cost to himself? Bebe kisses him - not on the eyelids and not gently like lovers kiss - with a heat that puts most of his porn movies to shame. He doesn't even have time to wonder how much practice she's had at sexual things because she's moved on from the mind blowing kisses to other, much more satisfying things.


	5. Perception

Like most teenagers Craig sees the world in shades of gray. Nothing is really concrete enough for life to be viewed in black and white, and nothing is really crazy enough to be viewed in a rainbow of colors. His favorite two words are fuck you; mostly because he just doesn't want to bother with anyone and those he does bother with usually piss him off. Even his own gang members piss him off like nothing else, at least Clyde and Token do.

No, it isn't a threesome they have. It's a foursome. For you see, the only one who doesn't piss Craig off is Tweek. At the same time Tweek is probably the one who pissses him off most of all. For some reason Craig never takes his anger out on Tweek. Tweek is the exception to the rule. This has made Craig spend many long hours thinking about Tweek Tweak, those hours resulting in no explanations as to Craig's strange attitude towards the blond.

To maybe get some insights, Craig took Tweek out for a walk with him. So far they've been out here for fifteen minutes and Craig is no closer to figuring out why he is this way with the blond. To prompt the his thoughts Craig says out loud "You're the only one on this miserable planet I can be with." Be with, meaning that he can hang out with Tweek and not flip off or cuss out someone.

Unfortunately Craig didn't really think about how Tweek will take that before he said it. As should have been predicted, Tweek is grabbing his hair and half screaming, "Too much pressure man!" That is only Tweek initial reaction, though. Once he takes a minute to actually think the words over Craig sees that he made a mistake in saying that ."Oh Jesus! That's too much pressure! I can't do it! Ghack!"

Craig cuts Tweek off, forcing both of them to pause in their afternoon walk. In spite of it being afternoon, the sun is hiding behind the clouds and making Craig's already grey world seem even grayer. "Don't fucking do that, Tweek. You'll get hurt one day. Or go bald." He takes Tweek's hands from the blond hair, untangling them gently as he has done many times, and then releasing them. Usually Tweek's hands fall to his sides or into his pockets but this time they land on Craig's blue jacket. The teen is shaking, probably from the half a dozen cups of coffee Craig knows he's already had despite it being maybe twelve thirty.

As he thinks about Tweek and feels those hands resting on his jacket Craig is shocked when a thought comes to his mind; maybe it isn't a negative emotion he feels for Tweek, maybe it is a positive one. Its kind of like a fairytale moment, the moment that Craig's eyes suddenly perceive the colors of the world. For the sake of testing out his theory, Craig slips his arms around Tweek's waist, tilts his head, and kisses the other full on the mouth. The moment their lips touch the sun breaks through the clouds, showering the world in color. Tweek doesn't back away, doesn't fight Craig's advance at all and in fact seems to be kissing back.


	6. Phone

The phone rings. It pulls Stan from his self-made abyss of depression. Earlier that day at school Stan had foolishly let slip to the other Goths that he is in love with Kyle. It's probably got around the school by now, which means that it's Kyle making his phone ring so loudly. Kyle wouldn't be a jerk and dump Stan just because they are now out of the closet, would he? It's hard to tell since Stan has turned his back on Kyle more than once.

The phone still rings. Even in the dark loneliness of Stan's home he knows where it is. If he wanted to he could answer it. But he doesn't want to. What if Kyle hates Stan now? What if he doesn't want anything to do with the broadcasted sexuality? He's thought about this all day, sinking further and further into depression. His thoughts don't lead to a happy outcome, just the end of his best relationship. The pain he feels he knows is just emotional and mental, but he swears it's physical too; the thought of losing Kyle hurts so badly.

The phone continues to ring. Stan can't answer it. Kyle wouldn't be cruel enough to dump him via phone call, would he? Stan isn't sure. Kyle hasn't had a real girlfriend before, let alone a boyfriend. He curls up on the floor in his corner of the room, a place he crawled to as soon as he came home and pulled the curtains shut. No one is home today, they took a trip somewhere. So no one can see how miserable he is. So no one can tease him or try to get him help he doesn't think he wants.

The phone stops ringing. Stan goes completely still, not even daring to think. His blue eyes are largely dilated as he stares at the still phone. What if that was Kyle, calling to tell him it's ok that Stan let out their secret? What if Kyle was just checking up on him since Stan ignored everyone today? What if Kyle is on his way over now? Stan may have just blown his last chance with his boyfriend by not answering the phone. He spirals into a deeper depression.

The phone beeps. With the single beep Stan's heart skips a beat. Beeping means voicemail. Someone left a message. Kyle? Oh God he hopes so. Then again he's so terrified that he may have messed up too badly for Kyle to ever forgive him that he hopes there is no voicemail from Kyle, who he hopes didn't call. Stan uncurls himself and feels the protest of his stiff body. Instead of walking he crawls to the phone on the other side of the room. He picks up the phone.

The phone tells him he has one new message. In Stan's chest his heart races painfully against his ribs, it feels like it's about to burst. He almost puts the phone down when Kyle's voice comes on. Stan's heart temporarily stops. He holds his breath.

_iHey Stan, why have you been avoiding me? You're worrying me, dude. Is it because everyone found out we're gay with each other? I kind of think they already knew or at least suspected. So don't worry about it. And if you don't answer this phone I'm coming over. Alright. I'm coming over Stan. You better be there. I-I love you./i_

Th phone clatters. Stan dropped it. He doesn't bother to pick it up. Kyle still loves him. He lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding only to suck in another just as quickly. A small laugh escapes him. "Kyle still loves me." Of course Kyle does! Kyle wouldn't leave him just because everyone found out they are fucking each other. He rubs his wet eyes, wiping away tears he didn't realize he cried before Kyle gets there. He doesn't want to seem like some whimp.


	7. Hotel

Sometimes Terrance wonders what Philip is thinking when they are in the hotel room doing things that would make a lot of people like them less. No, it's probably not enough to cancel their show, but it would give them bad publicity. Terrance allows Philip to do as he pleases mostly because he knows that Philip works better after being satisfied. All that Terrance wants to know is why it's him that Philip needs to satisfy himself with.

It's not like he doesn't enjoy their secret fucks, but he just wants to know why him. "Terr." Yeah, it looks like T-e-r-r, but its pronounced tear as in tearing a piece of paper apart. Off stage they're completely different than onstage. Terrance will admit that he is a sort of man whore. Philip only indulges in Terrance as far as the later knows.

One night when Terrance was drunk Philip took them to a tattoo parlor and they got matching Canadian leaves tattooed on their stomachs. Sometimes Terrance wonders about the other. He would say that they are in love or something stupid like that, except that neither of them voices any affection for the other. Once onstage Philip let slip that they are gay, something that Terrance had to correct quickly. Another time they kissed onstage. Guess who ignited that one?

Terrance gives a noise of acknowledgement in his throat and smiles as Philip bites his shirt. "They are going to get suspicious if you keep ruining my shirts, Phil." They being, well, just about everyone in the world who sees them. Sometimes Philip gets a little bit over excited and doesn't even bother to wait until clothes are off, thus ruining many of Terrance's trademark red shirts. Terrance doesn't like the spit on them, the wrinkles, or the holes from excessive gnawing. He tries to get undressed before Philip gets too rowdy and impatient.

"Terr?" Terrance looks at Philip, arching against the wall to do so. Before Philip, Terrance can honestly say that there were many places he hasn't fucked on (or in); walls, doors, tables, desks, kitchen counters, washing machines, dryers, car hoods, floors, recliners, pools, closets, pool tables, bars, dressers, elevators, buses, airplanes. No, before Philip, Terrance stuck to beds, the back seats of cars, and showers. That was the limit to his sexual escapades. It kind of makes Terrance wonder what kind of teenager Philip was. Sure, they grew up together, but they usually kept their distance unless working.

"Yeah?" Terrance replies. He suns a hand down the other's side while Philip's hand slips into the back of his pants to grab his ass. Just because he's straight doesn't mean Terrance won't give back what he receives; he isn't a jerk. At least he isn't a huge jerk.

Philip licks his neck greedily then looks up at him with wide blue eyes. "Hotel rooms make me really horny." Terrance just stares at him for a moment then laughs. With his free hand he ruffles the blond hair of his friend. That is probably the understatement of the year. Philip laughs too smiling briefly before continuing his assault on Terrance's neck. Terrance can already tell that he's going to need a lot of makeup before he can even go out of the hotel room they are currently staying in.

That would make a good joke. Maybe they can incorporate that somehow into the show. It's a good idea, and another reason Terrance allows the hotel fucking. Philip comes up with some good stuff in the midst of passion. "Maybe we should rent some whores." Terrance jokes. By now he knows that Philip will only take him in a hotel room. If only he could figure out why.

Philip freezes mid-bite. He seems to be contemplating something. "But Terrance, if you aren't a whore, what are you?" He looks genuinely confused except for a teasing sparkle in his blue eyes. Terrance laughs again, Philip joining in once more. Yup, good material comes from a good fuck. Suddenly it dawns on him that perhaps that's why Philip always does him. Or maybe it really is because hotel rooms make him horny.


	8. Lessons

One day Butters suddenly became more like Kenny. He began giving out BJs and hand jobs. He would make out with anyone who seemed willing. And he is good at it. No one really knows how he got good at all things sexual. Everyone wants to know how he is learning this stuff. Surely no one would ever fuck Butters? People always thought of Butters as the submissive little bitch and as he grew up that title pissed him off. Butters isn't submissive! He won't bend to anyone's will or be their gopher anymore. For God's sake, he's Professor Chaos! He needed help and he knew it. Who never gets pushed around unless he wants to be? With that criterion in mind, Butters went to Kenny.

Kenny exchanged his services for free, more or less, with the condition that he show Butters everything he knows. Sex for sex seemed like a good idea to Butters. So he began to go to lessons with Kenny. They spent hours together wherever they could find that was private. At first he was embarrassed to be doing this stuff he's seen on stolen porn vids. But it's hard to be embarrassed when it feels so good. It's no secret that Kenny has been sexually active since they were eight. Kenny took Butters to new levels of ecstasy. It was like nothing he's ever experienced. Just thinking about the things Kenny does to him makes Butters horny, so he tries not to think about it too much.

"I don't think I can teach you anymore, Butters." Kenny tells him one afternoon. Kenny's family is gone, out searching for something or another, so they are home alone. Butters sits up, staring at Kenny with wide light blue eyes. Kenny was just giving him the best blow job ever and then he stops to say this? Couldn't he have finished first?

Butters searches for the proper words to come to mind then to his tongue. "That can't be all there is." He frowns as a realization comes to mind, if there is nothing left to learn he doesn't need to come to Kenny's. They don't have an excuse to have sex anymore. Well, aside from being horny, but that seems kind of eh. Kenny leans against Butter's bare thigh then stands up. He pulls the other blond up with him, much to Butter's disagreement.

The trademark teal shirt Butters wears falls back into place. Kenny says the magic words: "Just because lessons are through, doesn't mean we can't still fuck." Butters is the one to initiate the kiss. He pulls Kenny's face towards him, presses their lips together. His hand on Kenny's head finds a pierced ear which he plays with while they kiss. Kenny mimics him, kissing back enthusiastically.


	9. Drip

"Stan?" The bathroom is one of the last places Tweek expects to find anyone, let alone Stan. Ever since the teen's Goth and metrosexual phases he's been unusually clean, almost to the point of being obsessed. The bathrooms at the school are far from clean. To top off being in such a filthy place, Tweek is almost positive that he hears Stan sobbing quietly when he first comes into the bathroom.

The sound stops so that the only thing Tweek hears is the drippy faucet the school is too poor to fix. _iDrip, drip, drip/i_. Finally a huge breath is let out and another shuddering one is taken in. Finally Stan speaks, his voice is hoarse from all of the choked back sobbing, "Tweek?" It's a question even though they can see each other in the dirty mirror. The blond nods, wondering if he should leave. He doesn't want to get caught up in Stan's misery when he has enough on his own plate and Craig might get angry if anyone finds out that Tweek and Stan are alone together. Even though they aren't boyfriends anymore.

Suddenly Tweek can't stop the tears that fall. He came here to get away from everyone else so he could sob, just like Stan. He bows his head, not trying to stop the tears because he knows it will be useless. "Too much pressure." Tweek murmurs his catch phrase. "Just couldn't hold it in anymore." He knows Stan is watching him and sort of hopes that the other will try to make him feel better, hard as it might be for Stan.

Stan seems to understand exactly what Tweek is going through even though it just happened last night. "What happened?" Tweek doesn't even know. He shakes his head. They weren't ok, Tweek knows it, but they looked ok; on the outside they looked ok and nothing was different. It's mutual, they say, but Craig broke up with Tweek. He said that something was missing. The blond didn't cry last night. It didn't hurt so badly, but this morning seeing Craig and not being able to even approach him; that hurt and put everything into perspective.

"Oh Jesus!" Tweek pulls his hair, the tears coming harder and not because of the additional pain to his body. Worry flashes across Stan's face but his half hearted attempt at coming over to Tweek is stopped mid step. "I love him so much." Stan crosses the disgusting room, black shoes squeaking on the tile, and wraps his arms around Tweek.

For a long time there is only the sound of Tweek's sobbing and the steady _idrip, drip, drip/i_ of the sink. Finally Stan whispers "I know. I love him so much too." Tweek gets the feeling that Stan doesn't know what happened either and it hurts all the more. Isn't love supposed to be the best thing that ever happens to someone?


	10. Crazy

Butters never really thought it was strange when he made Professor Chaos. Professor Chaos is someone to get back at the world for everything Butters has gone through. Well, maybe not the world, but that group who kicked him out. World domination just happens to be Professor Chaos's goal in life. Chaos eventually took over more and more, but Butters let him because it would be rude otherwise and Chaos is technically a part of Butters himself.

He also never thought it was strange when he became a vampire. The only strange part about that was giving Cartman a hickey, something he never wants to do ever again; especially not with all of the cute guys around. Vampire Butters, known simply as Vampire to Butters himself, is a Goth with a thing for leaving hickeys on whoever suits his fancy at the moment.

Speaking of fancy, there is the last of Butters other sides: Majorine. Unlike Butters and Chaos, she wears a pretty green dress with green bows in her hair. Yes, Butters has some feminine traits in him. She loves everything that girls love, because she is a girl. Even in spite of the new addition to his mind, it never crossed Butters mind that he may in fact be crazy.

The first time it did cross his mind was one night when he was sleeping peacefully in bed, dreaming with all three of his other personalities. "Butters!" Majorine rushes towards him, arms out and smiling. He smiles at the pretty girl, hugging her. Behind Majorine, Chaos and Vampire walk up more slowly. "Chaos has been talking about you all day." She giggles, sending him a sly smile. It seems that all the other personalities of his are more in tune with their sexuality.

"Really? I wonder why." His confusion brings on another giggle fit from Majorine and even the moody Vampire is smirking. Chaos stops, beckoning Butters to come to him. Butters obeys with a smile on his face. While Vampire is Goth themed right down to his hair and eyes, and Majorine is green themed, Chaos is the same blue as Butters only a few shades darker. His darker blond hair hangs in his left eye. "Hey Professor Chaos, what's going on?"

Professor Chaos is also taller than Butters and it shows as Butters looks up at his alter ego. "Butters…" Said teenager smiles. A sigh comes from Chaos, wiping the smile off Butters face. "I heard mom and dad talking about sending us to the Crazy House." Majorine and Vampire, who were laughing only a moment ago at some joke unknown to Butters, fall silent.

"W-what I-I don't think they would –" One look at Chaos's serious expression tells Butters that it is not a joke. "B-but why would m-mom and dad d-do that?" It's clear he doesn't understand. What's wrong with him that he's crazy? "I-I probably deserve it. I-I've been g-going crazy this whole time and I-I d-didn't even –" Butters finds that he can't finish the sentence. He has no idea what a crazy house is like but it doesn't sound good.

Chaos puts a hand on Butters shoulder. "We'll all look out for you, Butters. But you have to keep us a secret no matter what, ok?" he promises. All that Butters can think of is whether or not he's actually crazy; just the thought of that seems crazy. He doesn't really – don't people who are crazy have – it dawns on him then as he looks at the other three – split personalities.


	11. Rejection

The school walls are thick, but not really thick enough, Clyde learned. It's just another day in detention, except that today it's only himself and Craig. Mr. Garrison and Mr. Slave are in the next room, pounding some ass judging by the sound of it. "They are totally going at it." Craig informs Clyde. Clyde isn't really listening because he's too busy staring at the arch of Craig's back and the cute ass sticking out as Craig listens at the wall for any sign of when their teachers are going to return. From Craig's report Clyde gathers that they will be busy for a while.

Usually Clyde is into Token the way Craig is into Tweek, but sometimes the group switches their main fuck buddies. Today is apparently going to be one of those days. Clyde stands up, making his way over to Craig. "Well I guess we have some time to ourselves then, hmmm?" Craig arches his back further, causing his butt to stick out even more. Clyde nuzzles Craig, pressing his crotch against Craig's ass. He rests one hand on the raven haired teen's hip, the other on the wall.

"Clyde?" Craig purrs, his voice both questioning and teasing. Clyde gives a questioning noise in his throat. "Aren't you straight? I mean, I know about you and Token, but…" And just like that Clyde is both rejected and turned off a bit. Although Clyde still looks at Playboy magazines he honestly can't stand females after that whore raped him. Clyde frowns and shakes his head. "What the fuck. That's weird." He feels Craig shake his head.

Clyde sighs, biting at the bait dangled in front of his face. "How is that weird?" He wants to say it's not weird, looking at Playboys but fucking guys. Craig rocks his hips forwards and back, simply to tease the other; they both know that Craig doesn't care if you're gay, straight, or bi. Although he isn't as out there and open minded as some people in South Park, namely that little blond Kenny.

Craig lets out a noise that can loosely be considered a moan. He just loves to tease, doesn't he? That asshole. "Because Token is in love with you the way Tweek is in love with me." The two Ts of the group, of course. It's obvious that Token is in love with Clyde, although Token is more subtle than Tweek. Clyde is still processing what this means when Craig slips out from beneath him to face him. "Tweek's my boyfriend now." Just like that Clyde has been rejected. What he thought was going to be an easy, fun fuck is apparently not going to be anything at all.


	12. Accident

"Ouch!" Token hisses as the hot coffee scorches his skin. It burns, but this isn't the first time Tweek has spilt coffee on him. Immediately Tweek jumps to his feet and races to get napkins. "It's a good thing I can wash this out." Being a member of the richest family in South Park has its perks, such as being able to get any and all stains out of his clothes. Tweek kneels beside Token, holding napkins in one shaky hand and a fresh cup of hot coffee in the other.

"Sorry, man. I'm not really myself lately." Not that being Tweek ever stops him from spilling coffee on Token. Token shrugs it off, knowing that the reason he's here is more important than getting angry over split coffee. Tweek offers him a halfhearted smile that doesn't even come close to reaching his green eye, and the napkins. Seeing his friend sad makes Token sigh. "What's wrong?" He hears fear in Tweek's voice but he can't imagine why. "Is everything ok with Clyde?" Oh, now he knows.

Token nods. "Yeah, it's great. He's a good boyfriend." He stops talking; reminding himself that he isn't here to talk about Clyde. Talk about Clyde he can do; Token really loves the whiney white teenager. Thankfully over the years he's become less whiney and tearful, although the show of emotions is one of the things Token likes about him.

Tweek looks down. "That's good." Neither of them mentions Craig. "Thanks for coming over." Token nods as he pats the wet spot with the napkins. Tweek kneels beside him, sipping coffee quietly and quivering. This time, though, Token can't tell if he's shaking because he's trying not to cry or because of the overdose of coffee on his poor nerves. "I'm sorry again."

Sympathy for his friend wells up inside the black teenager. Token puts his hand on Tweek's arm for reassurance. For some reason Tweek flinches, but at least he doesn't draw away. "It was just an accident, Tweek. No big deal"


	13. Handprints

Damien smiles to himself as he dips both hands into red, shivering at the sensation of the warmth it brings. Once his hands are fully painted he stands, turning to the wall behind him. There are already thousands of handprints but he presses his hands to the walls anyways. The handprints twist in every which way, all of them perfect because his supply of dye never runs out. Not in the seventh layer of Hell, it doesn't. There's always more crimson to paint the walls with; his pale hands are stained with it.

Over the years Damien became bored with living life in the seventh layer of Hell, especially since he can rarely go to Earth openly. Instead, Damien usually visits his boyfriend Pip in the Brit's dreams. It's a nice world Damien creates for his blond haired out casted lover. Funny to think that the prince of Hell has a boyfriend, a lover, someone he adores and would kill for. Even if he was a jerk at Cartman's party.

Damien curls his lips at the thought then drops to his knees and shoves his hands in the paint. It relents to his demands with a squishy noise. Gross. One day, Damien would like for Pip to come down to see his masterpiece; the wall of handprints. He presses his hands against the wall, stretching his arms as far as he can so that the prints are as far apart as they can be. Maybe Damien will steal Pip from God once the Brit dies, at least long enough for the teen to see the handprints and for a proper goodbye forever.

A groan distracts him from his thoughts of Pip. Damien looks down at the man whose stomach is cut open and whose guts spill onto the dirt on either side of his body. Without warning Damien kicks the man, snapping his neck and silencing him until he comes back to Hell. After all, where is he going to go? The source of his never ending paint will always come back to Hell and to Damien. Pip will like the handprints, Damien decides, but maybe he should hide the bodies.


	14. Emotional

Henrietta leans back as Stan leans forward to kiss her. "Um, Stan?" She tries not to show how uncomfortable she is, but it's very difficult. Stan opens his eyes and looks at her curiously, wondering why she's stopping him. "Look, you're clearly gay and this whole straight thing doesn't work for you. Just find a boyfriend, already." It's harsh, she knows, but he needs to understand how this is looking to everyone else. To everyone else, Stan is just trying to replace Kyle. Henrietta refuses to be the one Stan chooses to replace his long-time best friend and lover.

Stan studies her for a moment, clearly trying to decide if this is a battle he should fight. She can see the moment she wins. He seems to deflate, as though he's a balloon that's been popped. "Sorry, Henrietta." Stan mutters, sitting dejectedly beside her. Her heart goes out to him but she isn't the one to fix his broken heart. "I…You're right. Of course. I don't know what to do. I'm so confused and I miss him."

From what Henrietta gathers, Kyle is refusing to have any contact with Stan now that he's gone Goth again. Unfortunately for the Goth Kids, Stan is more Emo than Goth. He's only hanging out with them because he has no where else to go. "Why did you two break up, anyways?"

An irritated sigh and a wild flailing of his arms is the only response the Goth girl gets for a few minutes. After that display Stan answers her, "I don't fucking know. Kyle just dumped me out of the blue. Made up some bullshit and left. He hasn't talked to me in fucking forever." He turns to her, blue eyes crazy. "Do you know how long it's been since we've had sex?"

And that is too much information for Henrietta, even though she already guessed they were sleeping together. "Could it be you're too sex obsessed?" She says it jokingly but Stan is desperate enough to cling to anything anyone can give him. She's startled to realize that he's actually taking her seriously. She waits patiently for him to think it over, receiving only a shoulder shrug in response. "Well, you two should get back together. It's clearly not doing either of you any good. If it really is sex, the focus on the emotional aspect of your relationship more."


	15. Distraction

Kyle is so distracting. Stan sighs to himself as he lays beneath Kyle, flat on his stomach. In front of him is math homework but he can't focus on it because Kyle is sitting on him. True, it is only on his back and not his butt or anything, but still. The additional weight alone is distracting. Then there's the fact that it's Kyle sitting on him. "A² + B² · H = ?" Stan is fairly certain that there wasn't even one word in that sentence. Looking down at the paper he sees that he is correct in that guess.

Kyle himself doesn't realize how distracting he is. All the Jew knows is that he's sitting on Stan to keep him from running away, like earlier. Yup, Stan actually tried to run away from his homework. Unfortunately it didn't work very well, but if he were to do all of his homework with Kyle like this; ok, so it still wouldn't get done. On top of him the redhead shifts and Stan's face turns red. Thankfully he's down here and Kyle's attention is focused on math instead of Stan turning red like a cherry.

Hmm…Cherries…Popping cherries…"Stan!" Yes, that's his name. And currently it's tearing him from his daydream about the boy on top of him. "Are you paying attention?" Stan sighs, causing Kyle to go up and down in time with his breath. It's a strange feeling and as tempted as he is to repeat it, Stan decides against it. Mutely he nods. "Ok, so if A = 46, B = 12, and H is unknown, what is H?" This is one of those triangle problems right? Maybe?

Maybe if Kyle isn't distracting him so much Stan could answer this problem. He knows he knows it. What is 46²? 12² is…something. Ugh, his brain isn't working at all today. Kyle leans over, his chest resting on Stan's head. Stan can feel the steady beat of Kyle's heart against the back of his head; feel Kyle's mint-scented breath on his face. "Am I distracting you, dude? I don't want you to fail." Quickly Stan shakes his head no. Kyle seems indecisive but in the end decides to stay atop of Stan. I'm going to fail math because Kyle is sitting on me and damnit all I think I am gay. Who can be expected to pass math class when their hot best friend is so distracting?


	16. Nightgown

"These are so cute, Wendy! I love them." Bebe smiles at Wendy, who feels her heart fluttering in her chest. Wendy's violet eyes follow Bebe's down to stare at the other's chest. Its no fair that Bebe has bigger boobs than Wendy does, but Wendy doesn't mind very much anymore. Bebe hit puberty first, which Wendy soon learned sucks. The nightgown Bebe wears, given to her by Wendy for the girl's birthday, is violet and pink stripped. They are adorable, as Bebe pointed out.

"I know! And look, we match. Sort of." Wendy sits beside her friend, fully aware that she has no bra or panties on beneath her own night gown. Bebe looks at Wendy with her thoughtful eyes, studying the other so intensely that Wendy actually blushes. Bebe can't be interested in her, can she? Wendy isn't sure. She wants to find out but is afraid of rejection. Besides, she's dating Stan and kissing Bebe would be cheating on him. Not that he doesn't kiss Kyle.

Finally Bebe smiles. "We do." She drops her eyes back down to the stack of books beside her and sighs dramatically. Wendy frowns as she remembers they have homework to do. Stupid Mr. Garrison! "I guess we better do this homework." she says gloomily. Wendy catches Bebe peek at her from through her long curly blond hair. "Of course, we can always play later."

Wendy lights up, sitting up straight. "Yeah." Now she's sure that Bebe is checking her out. And just her luck too. Bebe smiles down at herself, clasping her hands beneath her legs. Bebe isn't wearing anything under her nightgown either, Wendy notices. "Work before play."


	17. Suicide

Pip wants to die. Never before has the young British gentleman ever felt so strongly about something. Not even the cruel Estella ever made Pip feel so strongly, as much as he loved and loathed her. He's drawn by something that he doesn't understand, doesn't even try to understand. All Pip knows is that to be happy he must go to Hell. To the seventh layer of Hell, to be exact, where his boyfriend Damien resides. He contemplates ways to kill himself, but none of them satisfy him. His death needs to be brutal, it needs to be gory, and completely disgusting. With a razor Pip cuts the words II'm coming/I into his left arm. Pip doesn't give the action a second thought. It never crosses his mind that maybe Damien is calling him.

Pip needs to die. Quickly Pip sheds his shirt to leave his torso exposed. With that same razor blade he cuts open his stomach, just a small incision since such a thin blade isn't going to make a huge gaping hole. He makes another one just above it. "I have to die." If he doesn't die Pip is going to, he doesn't know but it will be bad. Worse than dying. This is something he has to do. He sticks his hand in the wound, not even flinching at the pain or the disgusting squishy feel of his organs. The sliver of skin between the incisions rips, enlarging the wound. Blood drips onto his pants. Something is keeping Pip from feeling the pain.

Pip has to die. He digs inside himself, rips out organs, tears veins, widens the wound. With a lazy flick of the wrist Pip splatters blood onto the walls. Beautiful. Uncomprehending as to why the blood splatter is so appealing, the Brit flings more and more. The razor meets his cheek and he nuzzles the white wall. It turns red. With his sharp, uncut nails, Pip digs at his eye and when vision is lost sticks his hand down his throat to scratch it from the inside. Metallic, salty blood hits his taste buds and floods his stomach.

Pip finally died. The Brit lost too much blood and the use of precious internal organs to survive very long. His suicide is called the most brutal, gory, and disgusting thing anyone has ever seen. It was in fact so brutal, gory, and disgusting that they didn't even show pictures on the news. Pip doesn't care. He's finally dead, finally in Hell, finally with Damien. Suicide is definitely worth the greeting he gets from his boyfriend.


	18. Married

She walks up to him with a happy yet nervous expression on her radiant face that immediately puts Eric on his guard. What on Earth can make her look like that, he wonders. The first thing that comes to mind is that she must be pregnant. Its probably Stan's, might be Token's, or Bridon's.. He hopes it's Stan's. If its Stan's baby, Eric can handle that. Her deep violet eyes search his face. "Hey." No nicknames are attached to that. He notices that she's keeping one hand hidden. His concern grows.

"Hey." No insults added to that, as much as Eric wants to. The words won't go past his lips and he doesn't understand why. He and Wendy have been enemies forever, so rivaled were they that they kind of grew into friends. Something sort of like best friends. Only more. "What's up?" Eric doesn't know what to say to her. He doesn't want to talk to her at all, for fear of the bad news he know she brings. She isn't looking him in the eye anymore. Then he realizes that she never looked him in the eye to begin with. She's hiding something, and she knows I'm not going to like it.

"Umm," Wendy never needs to search for words to say. She's always one to fire straight and true. Eric's dread grows. "Stan," Of course its about Stan. Wendy and Stan have been on again, off again dating since elementary school. Cartman can't for the life of him figure out why she keeps getting back together with him. Going through childhood together brings people together, and now they are out of high school Anything can happen. He hopes it isn't a baby. Wendy finishes, "and I are getting married." Eric deadpans. No wonder she was so nervous. "Eric, will you…will you come to the wedding?"

He looks down at her and sees that she is still worried about something; him, maybe? Eric doesn't want to talk to her, doesn't even want to look at her or hear her voice. Searching her violet eyes he finds an undisguised hope and its then that he knows he can't deny her. His eyes drop to the ground. "Yeah." As soon as he agrees a spark returns to her eyes, a light he didn't notice was missing until it came back. Suddenly Wendy is looking a lot happier and more beautiful than ever before. Except she's still cautious.

Eric doesn't understand why until he realizes that she wants to hug him. He can barely even look at her. "Thank you." Eric just breathes. She wants to kiss him too. They can both feel the tension between them, tension that has been there since they were kids. Wendy leaves him with only a small smile and a large hole inside him. She looks back a few times at Eric, but he doesn't meet her eyes. He's afraid of what he might find there if he looks again. Eric is afraid that maybe she'll ask him IWhy didn't you stop me? You love me, why didn't you stop me?/I

If only she is pregnant.; pregnancy is much better than marriage. Pregnancy doesn't require the father of child to be in the picture. Pregnancy doesn't mean that the only way to be with them is through a divorce. Pregnancy means that anyone can love Wendy and help her raise her baby. Married means none of that. Married means that she's gone forever until the divorce. Married means that she just slipped right through his clutches.


	19. Nothing

Craig lays on Kyle's bed, not that the redhead minds at all. He's reading a Playboy magazine that he borrowed from Clyde. His quick gray eyes scan the page, going over every detail of the airbrushed naked and mostly naked women. In spite of this, he has an expression telling of intense boredom. He crosses one ankle over the other then switches which is on top. The boy's long pale fingers brush over the page edges just soft enough so that the likeliness of a paper cut is slim. The fingers curl into a loose fist which Craig rests his cheek on. As captivating as the girls are, the boy's gray eyes wander to occasionally look out the window. A deep inhale raises his back, followed by a tired exhale which rightens his spine into its former position.

Kyle sits at his desk. His bare feet are propped up on the desk's barren surface, something his mother would sure scold him for were she there. Green eyes study Craig's face while his brain compares it to Stan's. The eye's attention flits down to the magazine then back to Craig's face. Kyle notices that the boy doesn't always look at the magazine, instead looking sometimes out the window. Kyle yawns deeply, closing his eyes for a moment. When he opens them Craig hasn't moved an inch. He picks up a pencil to twirl it between his fingers. The task takes all of his concentration.

The two boys are from rival gangs and normally wouldn't be seen hanging out together unless necessary. Today it's unnecessary to be in the same room, but for reasons unknown they are there together. Not fighting, talking, or laughing. Not really even thinking. Together they are merely existing in the same place at the same time. Neither cares what the other is doing, or thinking, and neither has any plans to really find out or share their own airy thoughts. You see, together they found a way to coexist: by having absolutely nothing to do with the other.


	20. Bored

Ike stares at his older brother Kyle. Kyle has gone though a lot in his short lifetime and Ike knows it. Nothing, of course, compared to what Ike himself has gone through. Imagine being only eight and having lost your virginity after your adopted baby brother did; it had to be a blow to Kyle's ego. Hanging around Cartman has to be a blow to the ego too, as well as having his crush Stan prefer Wendy. Kenny, on the other hand, would rather bow Kyle's dick than mess around with his ego. How does Kyle remain sane?

Oh well, not really Ike's business about his brother's mentality. Deviously he crawls into his brother's lap. "I'm bored." He announces even though he is far from it; Ike can think about Kyle all day long. Kyle doesn't even set his book down to acknowledge his brother's invasion of his lap. The book is one with a blank gray cover, not even a title. Ike squirms on the redhead's lap, curling his small hands into fists. Why is his brother ignoring him? "Kyle!"

Kyle jumps as though he's been scared out of his mind by a near death experience. "I-Ike. What do you want?" Ike can see the question in Kyle's green eyes; Ihow long have you been here?/I Sometimes Kyle gets strange. Not strange like queer, philosophical, or depressed. Just…strange. Sometimes it looks like Kyle is tired of existing.

"Play with me." Ike demands. Now that he's demanded it, he finds that he really does want to play with his older brother. Kyle frowns down at him, the first real emotion that Ike has seen on his brother's face all day. Instead of pushing him away or something equally painful to get Ike to leave, Kyle just snuggles down, wrapping one arm against the young Canadian. "Kyle?"

Said teen nuzzles Ike's black hair, an action that takes him back to his early childhood when he and Kyle waited all night for Mr. Hanky. "Let's just chill here for a while, ok?" The green eyes drift back to the title less gray book. Sensing that his brother may actually do something drastic if he refuses, Ike settles down. His own blue eyes find the pages and what his eight year old mind realizes has it blowing. Ike can't believe what is written in the book. He wishes that it were an erotica or even a text book, but no such luck. The title less gray book is a journal and the page it's on, written in Kyle's very own handwriting, is plotting a million ways to both kill and abandon Ike.

Ike knows that his adopted older brother can be cruel, but this is; there isn't even an adjective for it. He never knew how hated he is. In a flat, monotone voice Ike says, "I'm still bored." Stiffly Ike crawls out of Kyle's lap and silently, robotically with forced movements, goes to his bedroom to process what he saw.


	21. Steam

"Don't cry, Pip." The young British boy can't help the tears that come to his eyes, much as he tries to hold them back. As the boyfriend of Satan's son, Pip has to be strong so that Damien isn't mocked for this weakness.

He bows his head and digs his nails into Damien's skin. "It hurts." he gasps when Damien shifts. His lover pulls him closer, although they are already as close as physically possible. Damien tilts his head and deeply kisses Pip. He slides his tongue over Pip's lips and the Brit opens his mouth to accept the muscle and presses back. Every inch of his mouth is traced with a tongue that tastes like blood and fire and dark nights.

When Damien retracts his tongue he stays close, his mouth hovering over Pip's, just close enough to make Pip want more. "I'm sorry, Pip." he whispers. Damien leans in to kiss him again. "I don't want to hurt you." But I want you, Pip silently finishes the sentence. For being a Prince of Darkness, the son of Satan, born to the 7th layer of Hell, Damien is a surprisingly gentle lover. He waits patiently until Pip gives a small nod to go ahead. Damien moans as he pulls mostly out of Pip and then pushes back in. Pip tries his best to stay relaxed but the pain is getting to be too much.

Just when he's about to beg for his lover to stop, Damien hits a spot. Pleasure rockets up Pip's spine and down the back of his legs. A loud moan builds from deep inside and is let out. The Brit's head rolls back to expose his throat. His trademark hat falls off but neither pays it any notice. Damien angles his head and his mouth attacks Pip's throat with kisses, licks, and nips.

Around them steam swirls, adding wetness to their sweat soaked bodies. The pleasure builds with each well-aimed thrust. Damien captures Pip's lips with his own at the moment of climax. "I love you." Damien pulls out of his lover and pulls Pip on top of him.

Pip rests his head against Damien's chest. "I love you too."


	22. Chillin

Henrietta, Dylan, Georgie, and Evan sit in Henrietta's room. They aren't doing anything. Just chilling and overall being bored in their own quiet ways. There is no speaking or interacting with each other.

Henrietta paints her toenails black, sitting on the floor. She's considering cutting her hair and wearing it in a new style. Sometimes she wonders what the point of life is, unable to find it. Maybe she should write more like Georgie to try and find the meaning of life.

Dylan just sits in a computer chair. Candlelight reflects off the half of his face that can be seen. His eyes are glued to the floor and his mouth turned down in a frown. It's getting harder to live every day, but he doesn't let the other Goths know that.

Georgie lays on the floor at the foot of the bed reading Edgar Allen Poe's The Raven. He props himself up on an elbow, glancing at Henrietta and Dylan once in a while. They both look deep in thought but Kinder doesn't bother with the older two. He feels Evan's foot against his back, gently rubbing up and down between his shoulder blades.

Evan lounges on Henrietta's bed, one socked foot hanging off the edge and rubbing between Georgie's shoulder blades. He inhales a deep breath, inhaling tobacco into his lungs. Quietly he watches the other three, younger Goths. They are doing various things, with the exception of Dylan, who is just sitting there. Something must be wrong. Maybe he'll find out later; for now all he wants to do is chill.


	23. Neon

Occasionally the adults would be so drunk that they didn't really care if their kids

really care if their kids got drunk right along with them. It was a dark night, a lonely night. Kyle was feeling depressed when he went to the bar. For hours he sat sipping drinks, watching people come and go. He leans his head against the bar and sighs. What is it about alcohol that makes people lonelier than they were before?

With an overly dramatic sigh Kyle slaps some money on the counter and stands up. The room sways and it takes a moment to decide which of the two doors is the exit. He pulls out his cell phone and dials 2. "Hey dude." Stan's voice comes on the phone.

"Stan…Come pick me up." Kyle is tired. He wants to go to bed but he doesn't want to go alone. His words slur and he barely manages to get out his location before he drops the phone in the snow. Stan's voice is there, he can hear it all the way from up here, but Kyle doesn't pick up the phone.

In a few minutes Stan pulls up in his car, gets out, and walks over to Kyle. He spots the cell phone in the snow and picks it up, putting it in his pocket. Kyle isn't paying much attention, just staring up at the neon pink light of the BAR sign above his head. "Are you drunk?"

Kyle shakes his head. "Lonely. Cold." he rubs his hands over his arms in a useless attempt at warming himself. "I'm so lonely, Stan." His eyes are getting teary.

Stan raises an eyebrow and takes a step towards his friend. "Are you crying?" He sounds amazed that it could possibly happen, that Kyle can be crying here in the snow drunk and cold.

Kyle smiles and leans against the wall. His body is bathed in bright pink light. "I guess I am." Stan gets closer and suddenly Kyle pulls him close. He presses his lips to Stan's. "Take me home." Kyle whispers. "I want to sleep with you." Stan puts a hand around Kyle's neck and the other against the wall, as if Kyle has any plans of escaping. His body is bathed in pink light.

"Alright, Kyle." Stan agrees quietly and pulls the other teen to his car.


	24. Sleepover

"D-do you wanna sleep over, Craig?" Tweek asks. He's jittery, nearly spilling the cup of coffee he's holding because he's shaking so bad. Sometimes Craig worries about Tweek's health, all that coffee is not good for someone but unfortunately the blond is addicted. "GAH!" Some of the coffee does spill over the edge and onto the floor with Tweek's violent twitching.

Craig sighs, used to spilled coffee and random screams. He nods as he pulls some paper towels out of his backpack and starts to clean up the mess. Ever since he met Tweek, Craig has learned to be prepared and has some abnormal things in his backpack aside from school supplies and porn. "You don't - GAH! - have to clean that up, C-Craig." Tweek protests weakly. Craig shrugs.

Craig spots Eric Cartman walking up, a sly smile on his face. Craig's blue eyes narrow distrustfully. "C'mon Tweek. Lets get out of here." He grabs Tweek by the arm and leads him away.

"Hey fags!" Craig winces and tightens his grip on Tweek's thin arm. He notices Tweek looking down and shaking but it's a different shaking than his usual kind. "Have fun pounding ass queers!"

"Don't listen, Tweekers." Craig murmurs. He hates when Cartman does this. He hates how Cartman acts like being gay makes them inferior. Just because Cartman is one of the only straight kids in school. It makes Craig sick.

Craig pulls Tweek from the school and into his car. Tweek can't drive, he probably won't ever be able to, because he twitches too much. The teen sits with his head bowed. He's still shaking, but not his usual jerky shakes, these are the soft trembling shakes that accompany sobs. They drive home without speaking.

In a few minutes they are at Tweek's house. His parents give them a warm greeting and coffee, which they take upstairs. On the way, Craig grabs a random magazine off the coffee table; he isn't in the mood to look at porn. When they get to Tweek's room the blond grabs a few pillows off his bed and curls up on the floor, a steaming and untouched mug of coffee beside him. Craig sits on the floor beside him so they are back-to-back and opens the magazine; which happens to be a National Geographic about bears.

They stay like that all night. Neither speaks to the other or moves. They don't have to. Tweek's eyes are still watery but he doesn't snuggle up to Craig like normal and Craig offers no comfort aside from his presence. Craig hates Cartman. One day he's going to kill the bastard for making Tweek suffer like this.


	25. Nonconformist

Evan is the most nonconformist Dylan has ever met. The Goth is only a year older than him, but two grades ahead since Dylan failed fourth grade and had to repeat it. Their group hasn't changed over the years, they've still been the same conformist-hating Goths they were in their younger days. No one has joined them since Raven, or Stan as everyone else called him. Dylan likes it this way, just the four of them together.

Except that over the years they've kind of done some conformist things.

Georgie is dating the Canadian Jew, Ike. Actually dating and not just fucking. Dylan swears that if Georgie can love…But he can't. None of them can. It doesn't matter. Its not like they need love. Its not like they want it. Love is a conformist scam.

Henrietta is off soul-searching. Outside of South Park. It's strange not having her around for weeks at a time. She never tells the other Goths what she's doing and Dylan supposes that it isn't really their business. But keeping secrets is for conformists. Lying is for conformists.

It seems like the only one unchanged is Evan. He's still the same tall, sexy Goth who hangs out on stairs and smokes cigarette after cigarette. Dylan can't really explain Evan. There aren't adjectives to describe the stuff that's going on inside of the tall Goth. He sometimes gets a feel for it, but its indescribable.

Dylan, too, has changed. Not a lot, just a little. And it's unnoticeable to everyone except himself. He's been thinking a lot about Evan. His thoughts have not been the same 'I-wonder-how-black-his-soul-really-is' thoughts Dylan usually has but, 'I-wonder-what-he-looks-like-shirtless' thoughts. Maybe this is how it was for Georgie when he started to fall for Ike. But Goths can't love; love is so conformist that…

Evan could love.

Evan could love and make it nonconformist; he can love and make it mean something deeper than physical pleasure. At least that's what Dylan thinks. Evan is such a nonconformist he can do conformist things and it wouldn't be conformist. He's a walking paradox, an oxymoron, the dark side of the sun. Maybe he can be nonconformist with Dylan, teach him how. Is that what Georgie is doing to Ike? Except that both Dylan and Evan are already nonconformists. If they get together, would that mean that they would be the ultimate nonconformists?


	26. Broken

It sometimes feels like he's a child's toy cast away unwanted. An uncaring older sister, clueless parents, and sketchy friends is what he has had to deal with since he was just a little kid. Now he's a teenager. He has no friends, not in his heart. They don't seem to notice but he doesn't care much because they aren't his friends anymore. Quietly he withdrew from his family until the only times he sees them are at the occasional family dinner. They are so obsessed with their own lives that more often than not Stan is forgot about completely.

It feels like Stan is a mannequin broken and useless. Broken; a word he would have never used to describe himself when he was younger. But he's a teenager now and he can see the light. What broke him so? Stan isn't quite sure why he's the way he is. There are no specific events he can trace back to the source of his withdrawal from society. He has a suspicion that he isn't the one who left them, they left him. He doesn't even play football anymore; worse, he can't even tell you why.

It might have been an experiment he was conducting, to see how others react if he withdraws socially. Socially must have turned into emotionally one day because he found that he doesn't care. In fact, Stan is so apathetic that he doesn't bother to go hang out with the Goths; not that they would accept him for a second time anyways. That part of his life is over.

Most of the time Stan lays on the floor or ground and looks at the ceiling or sky. Its times like these that he feels really unwanted. Sometimes he loses limbs and his sense of touch; not really of course but that's just how it feels to be a broken doll.


	27. Clubs

It seems that everyone who enters a club gets the wrong idea about pretty much everything. They seem to have it in their heads that a club is for hooking up with whoever they want, regardless of whether or not they already have someone with them.

This is the case with many of the teenagers at South Park. Most of them will go away with only a glare or the finger but some are more determined. Namely, Clyde. He's been trying to get with Craig forever, even thought Craig is with Tweek.

Compared to Tweek, Clyde is cool, calm, and not an addict. Tweek, on the other hand, isn't fully in control of his speech, twitches constantly, and is addicted to caffeine. Tweek causes so many problems for Craig, he can tell no matter what Craig may say.

They are sitting on a vibrant purple couch together. Tweek is huddled against Craig, quivering like mad. Craig has his hand on Tweek's thigh and is caressing it, a silent promise of things to come later. It's a nice moment within the chaos of dancers, bright lights, and loud wordless techno music.

"Hey Craig." With two words Tweek screams. Being used to it, no one looks but Craig gives him a peck on temple in silent reassurance. From the corner of his eye Tweek watches Craig look in the direction of the speaker, only to come face-to-face with him. No surprise flits across Craig's face. "What's up?" Clyde is learning against their couch and smiling mischievously. Tweek's shaking gets worse.

"Nothing." Craig answers in a monotone voice. Neither backs down, in spite of the fact that if anyone accidentally bumped Clyde they would end up mouth-to-mouth. Craig flips Clyde off. Clyde seems to get closer. Craig doesn't move back. Tweek clasps his hands together and prays that nothing happens.

Clyde's smile turns more sly. "Do you come here often? I've never seen you here before." A club isn't exactly Craig's scene, anymore than its Tweek's. Now that he thinks of it, Tweek doesn't know how they ended up here.

"No. And we're leaving." Craig replies. Tweek grabs Craig's hand before Craig can grab his and leaps to his feet. Craig is on his feet within the next second and they walk away. "I hate clubs." the raven comments as they walk out the door.

Tweek looks back and sees Clyde. Glaring. At him. The jittery teen screams and pulls his boyfriend farther away from the brunette. "Me too." he agrees once they are outside in the cool night air.


	28. Sunset

"Dude, Kenny, this is so awesome!" Kyle sits in a green inflatable inner tube and smiles at his friend. Kenny smiles back and pats Kyle on the head, ruffling his sun-dried red hair. "I'm glad you brought me here." The blonde's smile grows larger.

"No problem, dude." he replies. "It's been pretty fucking awesome!" Earlier in the day Kenny commandeered Kyle from the rest of the gang and took him to the beach. Well, he dragged the teen on the bus to the beach, but it's essentially the same thing. At first Kyle was bummed to be away from the other two but they started to play in the water with a blue see-through inflatable beach ball and the Jew's bad mood disappeared.

"It has. It's so nice to be away from that fatass." Kyle has been all smiles all day and it's been amazing. Kenny has been all smiles all day too. Now the sun is setting and they are going to have to go but neither of them wants to. Maybe the blonde can convince his friend to spend the night on the beach. It's summer in California so sleeping out on the beach at night should be warm enough.

"No kidding. I fucking hate Cartman." and Kenny leaves it at that. "Maybe I should have brought Stan, though. I feel bad leaving him there." Except that he kind of wanted Kyle to himself, some bonding time between the two of them. Later he and Stan can bond and after that all three of them can bond. Or something like that.

"Me too. He's going to be pissed when we get back." It seems to dawn on the Jew that they will have to go back. "When are we going back?" Kenny squints over at the setting sun.

"Tomorrow. We can spend the night on the beach." Earlier, even before he stole Kyle, Kenny had raided the Jew's house for beach essentials: towels, sunscreen, beach toys, Kyle's bathing suit, snacks, and a blanket. The blanket was for just-in-case and was a last-minute decision that he's now glad he made.

Kyle hesitates then shrugs and smiles again. "Alright." They get out of the water and spread out their towels on the sand side-by-side. As they sit there Kyle looks over at him with a grin and love-filled eyes. "Its nice seeing your face." Kenny just smiles and turns his eyes back to the orange and yellow that streaks the sky and highlights the water. Today has been perfect.

Together they watch the sun set and enjoy each other's company.


	29. Fine

Stan sighs as he sneaks into Wendy's house. He can't believe he's doing this. She isn't home right now and won't be for at least an hour, plenty of time for Stan to get what he needs. Quickly he goes through her things, careful not to disturb them noticeably, and grabs everything he requires. Once he has the stuff Stan sneaks back out and races to where the other three are waiting.

Only Butters greets him with a, "You did it." Stan nods and strips. He has no shame in his athletic body, not even when his boxers pool around his ankles. This is so stupid. Quickly Stan pulls on a pair of lavender panties. Following them are tight yellow Capri. Stan can feel the other's eyes on him as he pulls a white spaghetti strap over his head. The finishing touch is a violet hat.

Butters is all smiles. Craig looks bored but his eyes are moving up and down Stan's frame as though he really was a girl. Kenny doesn't show any emotion that Stan can see but he does inform the raven that he is, "Really fucking sexy in chick's clothes." This has Stan's face turning bright red.

"You look really fine today, ho." Stan stiffens at the sound of Cartman's voice. He turns around to face the fatass and frowns. The pig looks surprised at his mistake. "You and your girlfriend could be twins, Stanley." Cartman sneers as he pulls out a camera.

"Fuck no, Cartman!" Stan instantly regrets agreeing to play truth or dare with those three perverts over there. Ugh. He should have known something like this would happen.

Naturally Cartman doesn't pay the angry Stan any attention. "What? Don't want everyone to see how fine you are in woman's clothes?" Stan's blush darkens and he sends the fatass a death glare.


	30. Fags

Cartman would call them fags right now. It's a damn good thing he isn't here. "This is fucking crazy." Yeah. It is. Yet its happening anyways. They aren't even doing anything yet but the air around them is charged with sexual energy.

High school brought on changes so many that by the time they became seniors their wardrobes changed dramatically. They are still the same old friends, just a little bit different. A lot of people want them, always have now that its thought of. "We'll never hear the end of it."

Kyle has an industrial bar, three studs, and a ring going through his right ear. His lip is pierced. He wears black skinny jeans, a white button up shirt, black vest, and a tie stripped with two different grays. His eyes are kohl lined and his nails painted black. "I'm not a fag."

Stan has spider bite piercings on his lower lip. His ears hold six studs. Around his neck is a studded collar. He wears tight black skinny jeans and a dark gray shirt with the word fag on it. Like Kyle his eyes are kohl lined and his nails are colored black. "Neither am I."

Kenny's nose is pierced, and his tongue. His ears have three rings and a stud. He wears gray skinny jeans with a wallet chain hanging from them, and a tight black hoodie. His eyes are kohl lined and his nails are sharpied black. "You don't have to be a fag to kiss a guy."

Everything about them screams sex. They like it this way; they like people staring at them with lust drunk eyes. "This is fucking crazy." They all know it is. Like most things crazy they want it anyways.

On Stan's right is Kyle, clinging to him with a slightly open mouth ready for the taking. On his left is Kenny, attempting to steal a kiss from Stan before Kyle does. His hands rest on both of their heads, ready to pull them closer or push them away. Stan kisses Kyle. Kenny settles for nibbling along the raven' jaw line. "We aren't fucking yet."


	31. Frog

Wendy smiles at Eric. He's taking her on a date today, not that either of them will call it that. Ever. They are going to the fair and she knows it will be fun. Anything with him is fun. She decided to dress extra cute, in a lavender shirt and a short pink skirt. "You look good, ho." he comments with a blush, eyes downcast.

Wendy smiles wider in spite of the insult. "Thanks Eric." This gets him to look up at her and he smiles back. Only Wendy ever calls Eric Cartman by his first name; she knows it means a lot to him. He slips his hand into hers as they walk through the fair and she feels warm inside. They walk around, go on rides, eat snacks, and play games.

Suddenly Wendy sees something she must have. it's a little green frog stuffed animal. The thing barely looks like a frog, more like a bald green doll, but Wendy loves it. "I want that!" she points to it. Eric looks at it then at the game and shrugs. They walk over to the booth. Its one of those where you have to knock down a target. Eric pays the person manning it and is given three balls. Each time he throws the ball it hits, but the target isn't knocked over.

Before Wendy can complain to the person running the booth Eric pulls out more money. When the balls are offered to him he shakes his head. "I'll use my own, if you don't mind." With that he pulls a gun from his pants. Wendy hopes he doesn't shoot the man running the booth. Instead Eric aims it at the target and shoots. The target explodes. "I'll take the frog." he tells the cowering man. The man gives it to him then hides behind the booth.

He hands it to her with a light blush on his face. Wendy accepts it and snuggles it, quietly naming it Clyde Frog II; because she wants to have a piece of Eric with her and knows how much he likes his own Clyde Frog. The gun goes back into the waistline of his pants. Wendy beams up at him, still snuggling the frog, and gives him a kiss on the cheek. "Thank you." she whispers in his ear.

She giggles when he turns redder and rubs the back of his head. "Anything for you, ho." Eric mutters, looking everywhere but at her. Wendy has never seen Eric Cartman ever so flustered and she loves it. They walk hand in hand through the fair and enjoy the rest of their date.


	32. Jealousy

Stan stands behind Rebecca's fence and hates her. He hates Kyle too. They are kissing. He knows they are, he can hear them. She's so clueless and doesn't care at all about kissing Kyle. Kyle's clueless too, and doesn't realize that she's just stupid. They're both stupid.

Stan crosses his arms and leans against the fence, listening to the sounds of them making out. He doesn't want to hear it. He doesn't want to be here or to know that Kyle is making out with Rebecca. Or any other girl. Stupid girls. Girls gets added to the list of things Stan hates at the moment.

He knows he's being unreasonable. Kyle is going to kiss a lot of people for the rest of his life. That doesn't mean Stan has to like it. At all. The Jew should kiss only the raven. Stan can't believe how jealous he is. Ugh. Its disgusting. Except he can't help that he's got a tiny crush on his best friend. Maybe not a tiny crush.

He suddenly realizes that the quiet sounds of them kissing have stopped. Now she's talking about mating. Stan's eyes go wide. Kyle is talking about love. Rebecca doesn't seem to get it. Stan wishes that Kyle would talk about love, real love, with him. Kyle's love for Stan would be a good topic. Rebecca stands up and runs off, he can hear her shoes against the walkway. Kyle sighs.

I got jealous over that? Stan wonders.


	33. Laundry

Craig doesn't really smile a lot. He doesn't talk out of his monotone voice and he doesn't like going on adventures. Craig is very blunt and honest. He flips people off when he gets angry at them, or just because.

So when Craig Tucker came to school the morning after meeting the kid with tourettes's syndrome smiling everyone knew something was up. Craig Tucker just does not smile. He doesn't even smile around Tweek. But there Craig was, smiling like, like someone who was not Craig Tucker.

The notorious gang of four of the most adventurous kids in the school, probably the world, noticed this immediately. They just gaped at each other like fish out of water at this phenomenon. For once, though, they decided not to interfere. Eventually they knew they would find out, but for now they just wanted to sit back and watch.

The reason for the uncharacteristic smile is that Thomas is coming over today after school and Craig is going to do his laundry. And maybe a bit more than the kid's laundry, if he haves his way. He knows that Thomas is wary of Craig since that fatass Cartman decided to fake having tourettes's syndrome, and like Cartman Craig likes the disease. It's a turn on to hear things like Icock sucker/I and Ibitch/I coming from the unlikely kid's mouth.

Rain pours down in a sudden outburst. It makes quick work of his dry clothes, turning them into weights that drag him down. Craig ignores this, however, in favor of rushing to Thomas. The boy looks at Craig and immediately says "Asshole." Craig just smirks, leans over, and gives Thomas a chaste kiss on the cheek. Thomas either doesn't mind or is ignoring Craig's affections because he just crosses his arms.

Craig leads the way to his house, regretting that his parents borrowed his car for their stupid business meeting. He flips off random people, too happy to keep his 'fuck yous' to himself. His smile widens every time Thomas curses, which is fairly often. By the time they get to his house his face is starting to hurt.

As soon as they are in the door and have it safely closed behind them, Craig begins to strip. He takes it all off, showing off his lean body to the other. The cold doesn't seem to have hit him below the waist, thankfully. He smiles at Thomas, who is watching with a raised eyebrow. The teen's eyes wander down his body, pausing below his waist, then back up to look him in the eye.

Craig lets his armload of wet clothing drop onto the floor. Taking deliberately long strides he reaches Thomas in a few seconds. "I told you I would do your laundry." he whispers heatedly as he slips a few fingers into the waistline of Thomas's pants.


	34. Life

Bradley rolls over in his bed. He feels a whine of need forming in his throat but swallows it. Oh Jesus unclean thoughts going through his head right now. Remember a bible verse…"And you must not lie down with another male the same as you lie down with a woman, Leviticus, Scripture 18:22." Bradley murmurs out loud. He chews on his thumb.

"Do you really think those Bible verses will help us?" Without warning Butters head appears from the top bunk. His smile lights up the dark room.

"NO!" Bradley jumps, scooting away against the wall. He doesn't want to scoot away. He doesn't want to be an abomination. The eight year old looks confused. "I mean. Oh god. Yes. They are going to help. I'm not normal." He puts his head in his hands and tugs on his hair.

"Bradley, don't do that!" The nine year old hears a thunk. Oh no. Bradley tightens his grip. He murmurs more scripture. The bed sinks with additional weight. "You're going to hurt yourself if you do that, Bradley." Oh god. Oh god. Oh god. Bradley jumps at the feeling of soft hands against his, gently tugging his fingers from his hair.

"Butters…" His heart beats painfully in his chest. The boy just wants to - NO! Bad thoughts. "Get away." Half of him hopes that Butters will ignore him. He opens an eye he didn't notice he closed and sees a pout on the other's face. The younger boy goes to move, but looks extremely unhappy about doing so. Good. And then he remembers what Butters said, how he talked him down from jumping off the bridge. "Wait!"

Bradley pulls Butters over to him. "I-I thought you wanted me gone, Bradley." Stop saying my name. No. Wait. Don't stop. Bradley embraces Butters. He wonders if the smaller boy can hear his heart beating so fast. "Bradley?"

The older boy looks down at Butters. He's so close, so warm. "Do you really like-like me?" Bradley whispers against the soft pale blond hair.

"Of course I do, Bradley. I like-like you a lot-a lot." Butters reassures his Acountibilibuddy. Bradley can feel his crush smiling. Then Butters wraps his arms around Bradley's waist and nuzzles him. "I wanna sleep with you tonight, Bradley." Butters voice is heavy with sleep.

Bradley nods, then remembers that Butters can't see it, and says "Are you sure?" A small nod. "Okay." This is okay, right; Bradley wonders as he lays down and pulls Butters horizontal with him. This kind of lying down is alright, isn't it? Its not like they are doing anything wrong. Just laying here sleeping. Almost sleeping.

Something occurs to Bradley and he inclines his head to see Butters. At the same time Butters raises his to give Bradley a kiss goodnight on the cheek. Instead of a kiss on the cheek, his lips connect with Bradley's. The older boy is too stunned to do anything. But Butters smiles. "Goodnight Bradley." he whispers, thinking nothing of the kiss.

The older boy feels something stirring inside him. He wants Butters like never before, not even the first few times he had begun to think bad thoughts about his younger Acountibilibuddy. "Butters?" he asks to the darkness.

Butters nuzzles him. "Yeah, Bradley?" Butters sounds so innocent and so unaware. Sometimes the older boy wonders if Butters even knows what he's talking about most of the time. Can it really be a sin to love someone so pure and good? If only Butters was a girl.

"Um..." Bradley chews on a finger. He can't spoil something so good with his unclean desires. "Will you tell me about your life? Before you came here?"

"Sure I will." Butters answers cheerfully. "Mom and dad are real nice. I used to have a girlfriend at Raisins, but she dumped me. It kinda sucked. Well, ever since Kenny died I took his place. But they kicked me out of the group and replaced me with Tweek instead. My best friend is Eric. I always sleep over at his house. He wants to go to sleep early so he can take naked pictures of me. He thinks I don't know but Kenny showed me one time. They're all over the Internet."

Bradley is quiet for a minute. He isn't quite sure how to take the news that his love interest – not a real love interest, just a friend! - has had a girlfriend and has a guy taking naked pictures of him. "Is that why you're here?"

Butters chuckles. "Not-uh. I'm here cause Eric took a picture of my weenier in his mouth. I was naked and he tripped with a camera in his hand and it was just – bam! I didn't even know about it until Kenny showed me the picture." Bradley can tell that Butters believes what he is saying. He truly believes that this Eric guy tripped and just happened to be sucking his – BAD THOUGHTS!

It makes him kind of sad though to know that Butters has already been sucked off of. Apparently in his sleep without his consent, as well. Isn't that almost-rape? Sexual harassment, for sure. Bradley is not quite sure what to say. So he's surprised when the first thing out of his mouth is, "Did you like it?"

He feels the shrugging of small shoulders. "I don't know. I was sleeping." Butters pulls away enough so they can look at each other in the dark. "You don't take naked pictures of me do you?" He sounds so sweet and innocent and truly curious, not at all criticizing if Bradley were to say yes.

"No. I-I wouldn't do that Butters." He bites so hard on his fingertip that it draws blood. Bradley squirms then stops, tension obvious in the rigid form his body takes. "Why do you like-like me?"

Another chuckle. "Because you're my Acountibilibuddy and you're so nice to me. You haven't made fun of me or beat me up or ignored me or anything. And you like-like me." Made fun of? Beaten up? Ignored? Oh this is so horrible. Sudden impulse causes him to wrap his arms tightly around Butters. "B-Bradley?"

"I like-like you because you're cute and friendly and you don't judge." No, Butters is not the judge, jury, and executioner like everyone else. "You saved me too, but I like-liked you before that." Bradley whispers. They hear footsteps outside their door and fall silent. Through their shirts Bradley can feel Butters heart speeding up; even he doesn't want to be caught like this.

Judge, Jury, Executioner. Only God should play all three roles, no human mortal should but the councilors seem to forget that sometimes. The footsteps pause outside their door. There is no explaining this. Although clothes are on the councilors will think they are doing something unholy.

After a few long tense seconds the footsteps pause. Bradley is about to strike up conversation again but a soft snoring makes him close his mouth again. He wishes he had a computer, to see those pictures of Butters. Maybe when he gets out he will look the little blonde up.


	35. Scream

She screams sex.

If she doesn't get any, she feels like she is going to die from need. It used to matter who she slept with, but one day that just stopped. She no longer cared.

But sex got boring for her. She began to crave something additional, something her lovers wouldn't like very much. It started as an itch but grew into something more until one night with Clyde she did that taboo something.

His blood tasted spicy like the tacos he always ate.

That was the beginning. One by one the males of South Park started to disappear. There was never any trace of the killer, no suspects or finger-pointing. No one even knew she did it.

One night she slipped into Stan's window. Sweet Stan. He was a shitty boyfriend. For a while she just stood staring at him, naked except for black lace panties and matching bra, and leather boots. He looked asleep, but when he sat up she saw he was faking. Without hesitating she went to him, straddled him. He recognized her instantly. "Wendy?"

Stan is the only one who was allowed to scream. When they found her Wendy was lying in Stan's bed, her feet up against the wall, covered in blood with a wicked grin. His screams echoed in her ears right along with the sirens.


	36. Pet

"Mole, I've been thinking." Don't call me that. Christophe takes a drag of his cigarette. Its almost gone. "Wouldn't it be nice if we got a pet?" We move too much for that. Green eyes glance at Gregory.

Gregory smiles. "I was thinking a German Shepherd." The cigarette in Christophe's gloved hand is crushed. Ashes leak out from between his fingers. He glares at Gregory, wondering how the British fag could even suggest such a thing.

Gregory looks at Christophe in alarm. Even he knows better than to cross the Mole. He hesitates then smiles. "Just kidding." No he wasn't. It appears that their taste in pets differs considerably.


End file.
